


I am my beloved and my beloved is mine

by Kt_fairy



Series: let the river rush in [7]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Pillow Talk, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: “Why the merriment?”“Hmm? Oh, nothing much. Thinking about you.”“I’ll try and take that as a compliment,” Francis grumbled without much bite as he slipped into bed next to James who immediately burrowed under his arm, ignoring the pleasant, lose ache in his hips as he hooked an ankle over Francis' own while settling against his side.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Series: let the river rush in [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1458220
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98





	I am my beloved and my beloved is mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsKingBean89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsKingBean89/gifts).



> MsKingBean89 mentioned a "big gay pillow talk" might be nice, and I pander to her horribly. So here we are again!

James’ heel slipped against the sheets when he tried to not twist or buck or pull at the bedding. He grunted, the sound startlingly loud against the gentle crackle of the low burning fire in the grate and the insistent patter of rain at the window, and tried to steady the sigh that trembled out of him.

His throat clicked as he swallowed past the cloying thickness that lingered there, his next breath catching in his chest as heat rolled through his stomach. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathed as he loosened his grip on the soft cotton twill of Francis’ nightshirt, slipping his hand beneath the collar to splay his fingers wide over his broad back. “Christ _._ ”

Francis moved higher up on to his elbows, twisting the hand holding James’ prick steady as he swallowed messily around the head. It was one of James’ few ‘tricks’ that Francis was applying himself to getting right (something James was perfectly content to allow), moaning in encouragement as his hips jerked. 

Francis took his hand from James' hip to rest on the strip of his stomach laid bare by his pushed up nightshirt, holding him still with enough firmness to make James gasp when he tried to shift his hips against the bed. He let go of the pillow beneath his head to grasp at Francis’ fingers, thinking for a moment of how they would feel pressing in where he was still easy and aching wonderfully from being made love to bare minuets earlier.

James whimpered loudly at the thought, his already flushed face becoming hot with embarrassment despite Francis being the only one who would hear it. He had been on edge since Francis had moved down the bed to bring him to completion, and James, who was as weak to a competent mouth on him as anyone, felt himself begin to teeter dangerously.

“ _Francis_ ,” he panted with some urgency, digging his fingernails into Francis’ back when he bobbed his head a few more times before pulling away with a gasp. He set his lips to James’ sweat and spit smeared inner thighs, nipping kisses to the delicate skin as he worked James over with his hand. James gasped in a heaving breath, pressing up against Francis’ hand as he reached his end suddenly, the heat pooled in his gut spreading wonderfully through him.

James sighed when all had subsided, trailing his fingers gently between the freckles he knew were littering Francis’ shoulders, smiling to himself when soft kisses made their way over his hipbone as Francis eased himself up onto his knees. He removed his hand from inside of Francis’ nightshirt when he sat up, watching as he pushed his hair, catching copper in the candlelight, back off his flushed face.

Francis sat a moment, eyes trailing slowly over James who was too sated to care much about how debauched he must look, all sprawled out with his nightshirt rucked up around his ribs. “You -” Francis started, having to clear his throat when his voice cracked, and James could not help grinning up at him. “Do not be smug.”

“You are the one who has left me flopped out,” James panted, tipping his chin up for a kiss. 

Francis wiped his hand on his nightshirt, planting his clean hand next to James’ head as he leant over to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. “All the same, I am still sorry for...”

“I say that there is no need,” James whispered as he cupped Francis’ cheek. “Happens to the best of us, happens to me, and you did not leave me wanting. Not one bit,” James murmured, tracing the shape of Francis’ soft mouth. “I am flattered that this body of mine can affect you so.”

Francis arched an eyebrow at him, kissing the pad of James’ thumb. “I think you might always have such an affect on this old man,” he murmured, kissing James firmly on the mouth when he made to draw breath to dispute that, then once again with more care before clambering inelegantly off the bed. 

They both set themselves back into a semblance of order, James tossing the sacrificial sheet on the floor along with the damp flannel he had wiped himself down with as he settled down on the far side of his bed. He did not recline in a state of decadence while watching Francis change his nightshirt as he knew that he was not always comfortable in his nakedness, but James did take a moment to approve of the healthy layer of softness that was slowly returning to him, letting his eyes wander over the solid strength that Francis had never lost before flopping onto his back.

A life at sea tended to maintain one’s form, as it were. It would do you no good if you were not of the disposition, and as a boy James had known sailors as old as his grandmama who had been all thick corded muscle and rude health. It all contributed to that rough mannered, carousing, indelicate view most had of sailors as a species; the same opinion, of ungentlemanly brutishness and lush behaviour, that James had held of Francis when they were both very different men. Francis had proven himself to be capable of great gentleness in all things, and had, since a point that was too fogged with pain and poison for James to remember, been gentle with him even when he was not being particularly delicate. Like when handling a vital a sea chart, James thought, and chuckled to himself loud enough to be heard. 

“Why the merriment?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing much. Thinking about you.”

“I’ll try and take that as a compliment,” Francis grumbled without much bite as he slipped into bed next to James who immediately burrowed under his arm, ignoring the pleasant, lose ache in his hips as he hooked an ankle over Francis' own while settling against his side. 

“Do you know, I have not been so merry in bed as I am with you since I was a Midshipman, I think. When it was all keen and inexperienced fumbling about,” James said lightly, deciding to exercise discretion when it came to the more expert attentions he had received when on shore in Greece or Istanbul. “Although, I suppose even then it was not, uh - _mutual_ laughter, you know. Not happiness. Amusement. It was nerves and embarrassment, and when with the other boys there was always that dangerous thrill of not getting caught at it...”

“What?” Francis tensed, his hand, which had been running absently up and down James’ arm, stopping rather abruptly. “Who else if not the other’s of your age?”

“Peace, Francis. Nothing untoward, nothing horrid,” James said softly, placing a hand on Francis’ chest to feel him relax. “Only, a few times the older boys ‘arranged a meeting’ with a girl for me as I was deemed _shy_ in that way,” James dropped a kiss to Francis’ shoulder, sweeping his thumb over the soft cotton covering his ribs as he grinned up at Francis. “And, alas, I have remained so despite the best efforts of all involved.”

Francis did not show any sign of amusement like James expected, instead giving the ceiling slightly confounded look.

“What?” James asked as he pushed himself up onto an elbow to look over him, holding down a grin as realisation dawned. “Did you think I had never known female company?”

Francis considered for a moment, eyes flicking to the open neck of James' nightshirt as his hand resuming its trail up and down James' arm. "I never gave it much thought, if I am to be honest."

"Preferences aside, I am a _sailor_ Francis. There is an image to maintain."

"I never thought about it!" Francis protested. "At first I never had a bloody moment to, and then… now things are such that it does not matter.” Francis said, sincere but unsure, blue eyes far too honest when he tipped his head to look at James with a little bit of alarm. "Do not tell me you have been wondering about my past dalliances." 

"Only when I first noticed you looking at me,” James admitted. “I was - I had become a lot less certain of all my certainties about you, after what happened to Blanky, but I was still surprised by the thought of you being… ” James waved a hand in the air as he searched for the word, "... _tempted_ by a man -” (by him) “ - that I could not help trying to work out what you meant by those looks and half glances. If it was simply a desire for comfort from your peer, or - or well, you know.”

Francis hmm-ed quietly, gaze slipping back to the ceiling as he thought on something for a moment. “I suppose it is the same story for most young officers in the Navy, whether they would they admit to it or not - doxies or comfort from your friend's hand,” he mused, amusement pulling at his mouth as he shifted slightly beneath the blankets. “The latter especially when I was on the _Briton_ in the Pacific, where Captain Staines was strict in keeping everyone away from the native girls on the islands. Their dress is very scant, you understand, and half of the men were driven wild,” he smiled when James laughed. “We knew no peace until we docked in Rio.”

There was a moment of ringing silence while the rain breezed quietly outside. James was not so sensitive about his origins that only a mention of his place of birth would cause a reaction in him, but he had never told anyone besides Francis (a thing that had nearly terrified James as much as the prospect of his death) and he had no idea what he should feel knowing that someone else understood the weight it held for him.

He glanced at Francis, unsure what to expect, and was relieved to find that he was only being regarded as gently as always. James shifted so he could prop himself up with an arm laid upon Francis’ chest, flicking his hair off of his face. “Did any of the dark haired, dark eyed, golden skinned beauties of Brazil catch your eye?” 

“Not particularly.”

“No?”

“No,” Francis said as he let his hand rest on the small of James’ back. “The only dark haired, dark eyed, warm skinned beauty that caught my eye is thoroughly English.”

James knew he had an awful soft look on his blushing face, like a maid being told a sweet nothing. He touched Francis' chest, then the strip of skin at his throat where the collar of his nightshirt remained rakishly unbuttoned, then the soft line of his jaw. It was such a small thing, being called English when you were a knighted captain in the Royal Navy, and it was ridiculous that it meant so much, but James had always been a little ridiculous.

“ _Beauty_ ,” James scoffed. “Such flattery when you have already had your way with me,” he murmured, cupping Francis' faintly stubbled cheek as he kissed him. Francis moved his free hand up James’ back to slip into his hair, stroking through it while they kissed once, twice, three times, James feeling warmth tingle through him again when he pulled away simply to look at him.

James traced the flush that always spread over Francis' cheekbones whenever he was watched too closely, smiling when Francis caught up his hand to press a kiss to the inside of this wrist, then the palm of his hand. He placed it on his chest when James shuffled around to lay his head on Francis’ shoulder once again, tangling their legs together while he watched the shadows on the walls, the rain petering out softly as he traced the pin tucking that ran down the front of Francis’ nightshirt. 

_Your friend's hand or a doxy,_ as Francis had said, were indeed many a young man's experience. It was James' that the former was always reasoned away by long absence and the crawling months spent journeying to an ocean half the world away - like the Pacific, or even the Arctic - far away from home with danger and strangeness at every turn. It was everyone’s excuse. Had been James’ once when there had still been a vague hope that he was _normal_ , had been what he had thought he and Francis were while they were stuck in the great frozen north; comfort and warmth and an assurance that they both still lived. 

He knew about Miss Cracroft - it had taken James a day to recover from the shock of hearing how Sir John's honourable niece had seduced Francis in a bloody _pond_ \- and there had always been a suspicion about Ross even though James knew he was the first man that Francis had been like this with, but… 

“Was it only then? When you were away at sea?” James asked, feeling a lot like he was poking at a sore spot where a tooth had been. “That you would…”

“No,” Francis admitted, curling his arm around James’ waist. “But it was never a - a permanence. Or rather, it was never considered a thing that could persist.”

“I was told that also,” James said quietly, thinking of how the words had broken a heart he had not even known had left vulnerable. “Not to think it was anything that could withstand the presence of women.”

“Not to think it could never involve the heart,” Francis confirmed, a kiss being dropped to James' hair. "And those same men who proclaim that are the ones that need to be watched with ships boys, and always looked for the… well.”

"For the mollies on the docksides?"

“Yes. Or the boys you see sometimes, dressed up. I obviously cannot judge that in theory, yet…”

“I am not a boy.”

"Yes... I never gave them much thought or attention, it never occurred to me to. The appeal was not there like it can be with you, and only you. I am not flattering - I did think it might 'awaken' a dormant thing in me, finding you so compelling in skirts and all that, but I think it may simply be you," Francis admitted softly and James curled in closer to him, his chest bursting with the brightness of being loved. "Not that I think any _boy_ dressed up to line another's pocket should appeal to anyone," Francis muttered as an afterthought, taking a little polish off of the moment. “Listen to me moralising, as if I have any true grasp on what it is to live under such a cloud of fear and condemnation.”

“Do not hold that as an excuse for some men’s behaviour, Francis. Even when I was not sure of myself I would not set the burden of blame, of _dirtiness_ , on another to ease the way for me," James spoke delicately, pressing his hand to Francis’ middle so he would not feel any barbs directed at him. “Excuses and elaborate rules are made by some men to make it all fit, to place another beneath them so they might keep their supposed masculinity while they continue to indulge themselves…”

“Do -” the word was spoken under Francis’ breath as if it were a thought more than anything, but James paused all the same when he felt Francis cringe. 

“Do?” James prompted, ignoring the twinge of tenderness between his legs as he propped himself up on Francis’ chest so he could look him in the eye. “Good lord, you’re not going to ask if I am coddling your manhood by letting you bugger me, are you?” he teased.

“No! Bloody _hell_ James!” Francis thundered. “I merely…” he huffed, a fine scowl on his face.

“An ill timed flippancy, I am sorry,” James said softly, smoothing his fingertips over line between Francis’ brows until it was gone. 

“Yes. Well. It was a passing thought. I merely wondered if those things - those reasons - are why you had not had any intimacies in… “ Francis trailed off, muttering something to himself before saying flatly, “... in the years before me.”

James curled his arm around Francis’ head, ignoring the faint pull from the scar on his ribs. “When I realised myself, as it were, there were fewer things to lose - I do not even have a family name to ruin. Then I obtained rank, and it was everything to hide myself, to protect others. Then, suddenly, I was a hero of a _war_ , a Commander, and I knew that any fancies or dalliances had to be put aside to protect myself from both ruin and hurt -,” Francis grasped James’ hand that was resting on his chest, “- until now, that is. You are too steady a pair of hands to be a risk,” James ducked his head to kiss Francis’ temple when he gave him a lovely, shy smile. “I was never at ease, for more reasons than this. I am still not wholly at ease sometimes, but I try, because I know you love me."

"Without excuse or rule, and despite _nothing_ ,” Francis said, straightforwardly sincere as always. “I do love you."

James grinned, trailing his fingers through Francis' hair. "I love you too," he whispered.

Those friends of his who had married for love liked to declare it (Sir James Ross was famous for it, and Ned Charlewood had once spoken about his dear wife for ten minutes one evening over port and cigars), were as enthusiastic about their wives as any good, devoted husband should be. 

James was devoted, and very much in love, and if he could marry he would put on his finest cream frock coat and go to church at once. Loud proclamations were out of the question, yet he found he treasured - truly treasured, not just a substitute for what was impossible - being able to keep his love, that was both easy and terribly complex, small and quiet. To hold it close between them as something as precious and rare as he held it to be.

James slipped his knee between Francis' strong legs to move even closer to him, the softness of his nightshirt slipping over his still tingling skin. The way he was laying made the lingering ache deep inside of him more apparent and it almost forcing a gasp out of James, the gentle heat and the sturdy nature of Francis’ body against his, and the sordid nature of their conversations, starting to have an effect on him.

“I love you,” James repeated just to see Francis smile, gap-toothed and sweet. "I think I have said so before, but this is not something I have ever had. Laying about in contented ease with a lover whispering secret things and honesties to one another. Although, I suppose it is not that common even if your lover is a woman, as there must always be an air of worry about getting caught to it. Even if there is probably less chance of being hung if you are discovered with a lady…”

“Your worry is for her reputation,” Francis said quietly, a slight distance to his expression as he moulded his hand to the dip of James’ waist (one of his favoured features). “The future of her happiness and inclusion in society. Her safety… much like my worries for you,” he blinked as a frown settled onto his face, the storm cloud clearing when he looked at James. “I would say that is not a concern to have with bobtails of any sort, but apparently you know about that...”

“Oh, do not pretend that is a shock!”

“I never was much one for it really. _Whoring_. I found it was all less fun if you did not know who you were rolling about with.”

“There was a time I would have disagreed with you, you know,” James mused, finally taking the plunge and levering himself up so he could swing his leg over Francis and straddle his hips, a slight shiver running through them both as the blankets slipped down James’ back. 

“You are accomplished, dashing, and very lovely,” Francis listed, hands dropping to James' thighs. “I do not doubt you had equally compelling company.”

“Who more often than not held their partner to be an afterthought - a thing I have also been guilty of, I will admit - and at times I found myself edging towards boredom,” Francis’ hand was warm and dry when James picked it up, cradling it in his own. “I am never bored with you. Who are considerate," James murmured, kissing the pad of Francis' thumb - "ever gentle and giving," - then passed his lips over the calluses on his fingers. "Who cares for my laughter and comfort as much as his own pleasure.”

The ties at the neck of James’ nightshirt had been undone at the beginning of this evening's proceedings, and James rolled his shoulders so it slipped open further. It was maybe a little wanton to be so aware of how pleasing various bits of ones body were, but whenever he was in the mood to use them he found he cared very little. Especially when the full attention of Francis' bright blue gaze landed on the curve of his clavicle, resting on the dip at the base of his throat as surely as if he had laid a kiss there.

James smiled, planting a kiss on the heel of Francis' hand as he shifted, bowing his back and pitch forward slightly to brace himself on the headboard, letting his hair fall around his face as he let Francis feel the weight of his cock.

"James, stop making love to my hand and get off me," Francis huffed while not trying all that hard to dislodge James, allowing him to push back the cuff of his nightshirt to kiss the freckles on the inside of his wrist. "I am an old man who has embarrassed himself once this evening, leave me be."

"Embarrassed? Hardly," James breathed, straightening his spine to press his hips down against where Francis was slowly showing his interest, tucking his toes beneath his calves. "If how delightfully aching and woefully empty I feel are anything to go by," he said, hiking up his nightshirt so he could place Francis' hand high up on his thigh. "I do not mind doing all the work, as you know, and the way will be so very easy from your…"

"You are being filthy," Francis cut him off with no gruffness in his tone, his hand moving up under James' nightshirt to touch his lower back. 

James gave him a coy look, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. "Of course if you wish me to disembark I shall at once, and go to sleep obediently."

"Obedient?" Francis laughed at that, a twinkle in his eye as he tucked a lock of James' hair behind his ear before cupping his cheek. "You are decadent, is what you are."

“Honest physical activity is never a decadence, my dear Francis,” James said sagely. “It is only a necessity.”

“Oh yes,” Francis drawled drily. “Very important to keep oneself fit.”

“The doctor’s did advise us both to keep active.” 

“This is prescribed is it?”

“One could say that, I suppose,” James shrugged.

"Well then… ” Francis said easily, taking James by the hips to pull him down firmly against his groin. “I suppose I do have a reputation to maintain, of not leaving you wanting."

James grinned, taking Francis’ face in his hands as he ducked down to kiss him.

  
  
  



End file.
